


Thistle and Steel

by itslaurenmae



Category: The Spanish Princess (TV)
Genre: Courtly Love, F/M, One Shot, Post-Battle of Flodden, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslaurenmae/pseuds/itslaurenmae
Summary: A short speculation on Alexander Stewart and that lean forward toward Meg after the Battle of Flodden.
Relationships: Alexander Stewart (c. 1493-1513)/Margaret Tudor, Alexander Stewart/Margaret Tudor, Alexander Stuart/Margaret Tudor, Margaret Tudor/Alexander Stewart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Thistle and Steel

It’s about to rain and there are bodies everywhere still in the field. Mud and sediment cake his trousers and his boots squelch in the mud as they lower their King’s body to the ground, setting him in front of their English-born queen, Margaret. It’s clear she’s already been crying, but the physical presence of James IV’s body draws an anguished cry from her that Alexander Stewart has never heard the likes of before. Like a banshee, _Bean Nighe_ , the wailing spirit-woman of his childhood fairy tales, howling the forthcoming passage of a soul from this world to the next - but too late, since their king has already been gone for hours now. **  
**

Maybe, if they’d listened to her before, if they hadn’t ignored her trilling warning of ruin to come that day in the council chamber, their king would still be alive.

The hard truth of this is not lost on Alexander Stewart, his cloak soaked with sweat and blood, the fringe of his hair plastered to his forehead from the same. Seeing her weep like this, beholding the sound that came from her when they first laid him at her feet - it shakes him to his very core in a way he’d never been shaken. He’d heard her holler plenty of times before - in council chambers, in the hallways... at him, at her children, at her husband - but nothing like this before.

The way something is so obviously breaking inside of her comes out in a strangled cry, and as she hits her dead husband’s body and begs him to come back, Alexander lowers his eyes to the dirty ground and swallows back the rise of anger and sadness from his own throat. Watching her like this... it’s a terrible sight to behold. The horror of her cries, the shrillness of her sobs. He wishes she wasn’t in front of his many kinsmen and other warriors, that there were fewer people total all around. This is something she should be doing in a safe place, away from the stares of soldiers and Catherine, the Spanish queen of England, who seems to view her sister-in-law’s grief with measured smugness. 

Perhaps the English had been the cause of all the strife in Scotland - he’d meant that in the council room - but watching Meg weep for James here in the silt and the mud and the oncoming rain... that wasn’t her fault. 

And with the tears from her eyes, the cries from her throat, and the strands of her hair falling around her face, Alexander Stewart sees for the first time just how young their Queen is. She can’t be much older than his favorite sister, can’t be that much younger than he is, now that he thinks about it. 

She’s scared and sad and weeping openly, and Catherine isn’t doing much to comfort her. No one is, and this moves _him_. So when she turns away from her sister-in-law, to slink back to the line of his countrymen that begrudgingly call her Queen by marriage, he takes a step toward her. Just a shuffle, not a whole stride, not breaking ranks with his kinsmen - just a subtle shift in her direction, a slink of the shoulder, a wordless offering of comfort. 

He doesn’t look up at her, just moves his body and trusts that this speechless gesture will show her that while he’d poked fun at her in the council chambers before, he really does mean to stand by her now. 

A beat goes by where no one is saying anything. Not her, not Catherine, and certainly not him. It is not his time to speak. He keeps his eyes down and holds the stance, ready and steady to comfort her, should she want it.

For a second, while her head is down, he thinks she’s going to turn into him, too - to rest her beautiful, sad face up against the plate armor on his chest, and while some of his kinsmen might think that improper or weak of him to offer, he doesn’t move away. He stands still and stalwart and steels himself. He’ll protect her if she wants him to, because she’s his Queen, and James was his King. And while her wailing today won’t bring him back from the dead, he shares her grief wordlessly. The step forward is the least he can do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this little one-shot! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> A great thanks to my friend Meg, @jeynepoole on tumblr, for help and encouragement. 
> 
> Blessings to Mark Rowley's body language - giving us more chemistry in 1.5 seconds than the main pairing in this show has given me in 10 episodes. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @itslaurenmae.


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